The Demon Princess's Gaze

Bruce looked at the young woman before him and the magnificent main hall behind her, like a demon's palace. He knew that his formal meeting with the "Demon's Head" was about to begin, and the system mission's final reward was waiting for him ahead.

His gaze fell on Talia like the most precise scanner.

He had to admit that she was a woman who could be called perfect from any angle. Her luxurious silk robe, rich with Middle Eastern style, did not conceal her figure. Instead, its clever tailoring highlighted her slender yet voluptuous curves to perfection. The robe's collar opened just enough to reveal her long, graceful swanlike neck and a patch of fair, delicate skin. When the breeze swept past, the robe clung to her body, faintly outlining the astonishing curve of her chest and her slender waist.

Her face was even more like God's finest work of art, combining the greatest virtues of East and West. She possessed the delicate softness of an Eastern woman, along with the deep, sculpted features of a Western woman. Her almond-shaped eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners, carrying an innate charm and pride. Her pupils were a deep brown, and at that moment, they scrutinized him without blinking like the sharpest hawk, as though they intended to see through his very soul.

Yet an odd thought, utterly out of place amid the tense atmosphere, surfaced in Bruce's mind.

"Talia al Ghul..." His thoughts instantly drifted back to all those days and nights spent before a computer screen in his previous life. "Ra's al Ghul's daughter, the Demon's Head's sole heir... and also the most important, most complicated woman in Bruce Wayne's massive 'harem' in the comics from my previous life. There wasn't even a close second."

His gaze instinctively lingered on her flat, toned abdomen for one-tenth of a second.

"And... if my damned memory isn't wrong, at some point in the future, we'll have a son named Damian. A smug little brat who perfectly inherits every one of our worst personality traits, and is the most annoying son in the world..."

At that thought, Bruce's eternally expressionless face nearly cracked.

"Tch... this is ridiculous." He could not help complaining inwardly. "Before I transmigrated, when I read the comics, I was just a reader looking down from a god's-eye view, marveling at how absurdly good Bruce Wayne's luck with women was. All kinds of stunning beauties with wildly different styles were always surrounding him. From Gotham's moonlit wildcat, Selina, to Themyscira's Wonder Woman, Diana, to this cold and proud demon princess, Talia... every one of them was a beauty capable of driving men all over the world mad."

"But now... that I'm standing here myself, facing all of this... the feeling is truly difficult to put into words."

This transformation from "reader" to "protagonist" brought an overwhelmingly intense impact, both absurd and real. It was as if a role-playing game he had once played had suddenly become reality, and he was the player holding the walkthrough who nevertheless had to step into the game himself, face every NPC, and complete every mission.

However, those chaotic thoughts lasted only a second.

Bruce instantly cut off every distraction. His gaze returned to its deep, icy stillness.

"Still, no matter how good my luck with women is, it's only a diversion along the way to achieving my goals. It may even be... a tool to use." His mind returned to the absolutely rational mode of the Arkham Knight. "I didn't come here to romance the demon's daughter. My goal is her father's throne, and... the son of mine he has hidden away."

Once he had sorted it all out, Bruce's aura underwent a subtle change. If he had merely been a powerful "guest" arriving for an appointment moments ago, he now radiated the aggressiveness of a "master" surveying his future territory.

He met Talia's scrutinizing gaze without retreating in the slightest. Instead, he stepped forward half a pace. That tiny movement instantly shattered the delicate balance between them.

He finally spoke. His voice was low and steady, yet it carried an unquestionable pressure.

"Talia al Ghul." He addressed her directly rather than using an honorific such as "Miss." "Daughter of the demon. To have you personally receive me..."

He paused, his gaze piercing into Talia's eyes like a blade.

"...is this your father showing me respect, or... the first test he has prepared for me?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the elite guards behind Talia all changed expression! Anger flashed through their eyes, and their hands tightened involuntarily around their sword hilts. In Nanda Parbat, no one had ever dared speak to their princess in such an interrogative tone!

Yet Talia's reaction was beyond everyone's expectations.

Not only was she not angry, but an undisguised flicker of surprise appeared in her sharp, beautiful eyes, followed by... a deeper glimmer that was almost admiration.

She had seen far too many men. Politicians and wealthy businessmen who grovelled before her and flattered her shamelessly; prisoners trembling in terror before her; and so-called "strong men" who pretended to be powerful, only for her to see through their bluff at a glance.

But she had never met anyone like Bruce Wayne.

He was neither servile nor arrogant, and even carried a faintly overbearing air as though he were the host instead. He had not been bewitched by her beauty or status, nor intimidated by Nanda Parbat, this legendary holy land. From beginning to end, his eyes remained absolutely calm and rational, as though he had not come for an appointment, but to... inspect the place.

This powerful, confident temperament, filled with the desire for control, was exactly the temperament of a true king that her father had sought for centuries!

The corners of Talia's lips, which had remained tense like an iceberg, actually lifted slightly into a faint curve—one so slight, yet enough to captivate the world.

"My father respects only true strength, and the wisdom worthy of it, Mr. Wayne." Her voice remained cool, but compared to before, it held less aloof frost and an almost imperceptible... hint of amusement.

"He believes you possess both. As for whether this counts as a test..." She turned gracefully and gestured toward the main hall. "You may consider the test to have begun the moment you set foot in the Himalayas. And you have clearly passed it, with results far beyond our expectations... the most perfect results possible."

"Please. My father is already growing impatient."

With that, she took elegant steps and led the way.

Bruce said nothing more and simply followed. The two walked side by side, while the elite guards behind them followed like silent shadows, keeping a distance of ten paces.

The road leading to the main hall was an incomparably broad central avenue paved with enormous bluestone slabs. The scenes on either side could not have been more different.

On one side lay gardens like paradise. Strange flowers and exotic plants competed in splendor, clear streams murmured past, and several cranes strolled leisurely by the water, creating the tranquil scene of a secluded utopia.

On the other side was a training ground like hell. Thousands of League of Assassins recruits, bare-chested and wearing only black trousers, underwent training that could only be described as brutal. They sparred in ice water that reached their knees, leapt across flaming wooden stakes, and moved through obstacles covered in razor-sharp blades. Every mistake sent blood spraying, after which medics immediately dragged away the injured or even the dead. The entire process was efficient and indifferent, as though those were not living people, but damaged components.

This bizarre sight of paradise interwoven with hell perfectly embodied the League of Assassins' core philosophy—seeking the most perfect rebirth through the cruelest destruction.

Bruce kept his eyes straight ahead, but his dynamic vision, enhanced by the Tactical Mastermind Mind, had already taken in everything around him. In his mind, he rapidly constructed a 3D model of the entire valley, marking the position of every sentry post, the patrol routes, the direction of the armories, and... the potential weaknesses in the defensive system.

He was not a guest. He was a general surveying a battlefield.

"We saw everything you did in Gotham." Talia, walking beside him, suddenly broke the silence. "In one night, you caused a criminal empire that seemed impregnable to collapse. Your methods resembled the League's style, but... were more efficient and more ruthless."

"Your people in Gotham were very loyal." Bruce's voice carried no emotion. "They chose death over capture. That is commendable discipline, but from a strategic standpoint, it is an enormous waste of valuable resources."

Talia's steps paused slightly. She turned her head and looked deeply at Bruce.

"To the League's warriors, loyalty and honor stand above all else. To offer one's life for the will of the Demon's Head is not wasteful, but the highest glory they can attain." She spoke word by word, her tone carrying unquestionable pride.

"Foolish glory," Bruce evaluated bluntly. "Only by living can one create greater value. Death means nothing but the end of everything."

Their conversation fell silent once more. This time, however, the air was filled with the even fiercer sparks of two completely opposing philosophies colliding.

Talia did not argue further. Because she realized that while she could not agree with Bruce's view, she... could not refute it logically.

Soon, they arrived before the main entrance of the magnificent hall. Two enormous doors, ten meters tall and carved from solid obsidian, were tightly shut. Countless ferocious demons and struggling souls were carved upon them, emanating an ancient aura that made one's heart tremble.

Two hulking men over two meters tall, their muscles knotted like granite and clad only in leather trousers, stood on either side of the doors like guardian statues. They carried no weapons, but the pure, beastlike pressure emanating from them was even more terrifying than a fully armed army.

Talia stopped before the doors and turned around, looking deeply at Bruce one last time.

"My father is inside." Her voice returned to its original coolness and pride. "He wishes to see only you... alone."

As her words fell, the incomparably heavy obsidian doors slowly opened inward with a teeth-grating creak.

An ancient scent mixed with incense, blood, and endless years rushed forth from the darkness beyond the doors.

Inside the hall was a deep darkness that stretched beyond sight. Only at the very end of the great hall, upon the throne, was there a faint, blurred figure, like a demon that had lain dormant for a thousand years, sitting silently and waiting for his arrival.